Return of the Ripper
by Arthur Delapore
Summary: Based extremely loosely on Stay Tuned For Danger. A much darker, more sinister retelling. Once again featuring the acclaimed artist of the macabre Richard Upton Pickman. FOURTH CHAPTER: WEST, HERBERT WEST
1. Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper

Return of the Ripper

_Note: Well, here I am again with my second Nancy Drew adventure. Just as a little background information, for those of you who have not read "Stay Tuned For Danger." Rick Arlen, an actor in a soap opera drama, has been receiving threatening letters. Mattie Jensen is his co-star and has called Nancy to figure out who is behind the threats. That is really the only similarity between the original story and my story, because the original story most certainly did not have Jack the Ripper elements in it, or Arkham. Thus, this is really my own story and I am merely using several characters that appeared in a Nancy Drew tale. The dialogues are all mine and the plot is pretty much mine as well. Oh, and a certain artist from my last story appears once again in this one. And now…on with the story!

* * *

_

Chapter One: Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper

"I'll probably be here later in the evening," Ned said on the phone. "See you later, Nance."

Nancy was about to reply when she saw a car stop in front of Mattie Jensen's house.

"I wonder who that is," Mattie murmured dully. "Nancy, will you get the door for me?" She smiled weakly. "This whole business with these attempts on Rick's life have just left me a bit listless, that's all."

"It's all right, I'll get it," Nancy said reassuringly, heading towards the door. She looked out the window to see who it was. To her surprise, she saw a tall, thin young man with dark hair and a cold, ironic expression.

Nancy opened the door, her heart quickening. There was something familiar about this person...

"Why, hello, my dear," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't expect you to be here!"

"Are you--" Nancy began.

"That horrible painter you met back at Blackmoor Manor?" he finished for her with a sardonic smile. "That's right. And now you're up north in my territory."

Nancy remembered then that the artist -- whom she now recognized as Richard Upton Pickman -- had mentioned that he was from a town called Arkham in Massachusetts.

"Is Arkham far from here?" she asked.

"Well, it's in another state," Pickman replied. "So it'd be at least a four hour drive from here in New York City. Would you like to go?" he asked with a mocking glimmer in his eyes. "I'm sure it's hideous enough for you."

Nancy hesitated. "I'm working on a case right now," she said. "It has to do with a co-star of Mattie Jensen's. An actor named Rick Arlen."

"Oh, what's happened to him?" Pickman asked with an ironic sneer. "Has his makeup gone missing?"

"Someone's been attempting to murder him," Nancy returned.

"Well, that's a relief," Pickman said. "I was afraid for a moment that it was something serious."

"And what are you doing here?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, just what I've always been doing," Pickman said carelessly. "I'm doing concept art for one of the shows that your Ms. Jensen and Mr. Arlen are starring in."

Nancy was about to say something, when Mattie came in the room holding her phone.

"Nancy -- Rick needs us to come to the studio now!" she said fearfully. "Something has happened!"

"Ah, your first clue!" Pickman declared. "Well, on with the case!"

* * *

Once they arrived at the studio, the security guard recognized Nancy and Pickman.

"I guess you're here about Mr. Arlen," he said. "You can go on. He's pretty mad," he added.

Nancy nodded and walked on down the hallways of the studio towards Rick's room. She knocked on the door and entered, with Pickman close behind.

To her surprise, the room was not in any sort of disorder at all and looked just as it had when Nancy had visited last. Rick was sitting in a chair in front of the mirror. When he turned to face Nancy, his face was set in a scowl of self-absorbed irritablity.

"What happened?" Nancy asked. "I heard that you wanted us to come right away."

"Us?" Rick repeated. "I wanted you to come because you're a detective, supposedly. But this guy..." he glared at Pickman. "What's he doing here?"

Pickman smirked. "He didn't really like a picture I drew of him," he said with a less than innocent smile.

"No, and not many people would, either, unless they appreciate being depicted as a half-ghoul creature eating other half-ghoul like creatures," Rick said sourly.

"I was only imagining you as the basest life form I could think of," Pickman explained. "Though I am beginning to think that if I drew a picture of you right now it would be twice as frightening as that last one."

"Can we get on with this?" Rick snapped at Nancy. "Take a look at this." He handed her a piece of paper. It was a letter...it said "No matter where you hide, no matter what you do, no matter who you go to, I will find you out. Yours truly, Jack the Ripper."

"Hmm," Pickman scrutinized the note. "Not your ordinary fan letter, I take it?"

"Can we get rid of this man?" Rick demanded.

"When did you get this?" Nancy asked.

"Just this morning," Rick replied. "I--"

A knock on the door interrupted him.

Nancy opened the door and to her surprise saw Ned and Bess standing outside.

"I thought you'd be here," Ned said. He stopped when he saw Pickman. "Who is he?"

"Just a friend of mine," Nancy said. She was trying to be polite, but the truth was that she was not altogether happy that Ned was here. The last few months they had ceased to be real friends because Ned had begun acting more and more rude towards Nancy and finally started ignoring her altogether. She suspected it was because he was hanging out with other people. At any rate, she didn't know why he had decided to come. She was glad, though, that Bess was there.

"I'm Ned Nickerson," Ned introduced himself and added unnecessarily, "Head of the football team back at River Heights." Nancy wondered whether he was deliberately mentioning that to point out that he was stronger in build than Pickman. It was true that the artist looked a good deal slighter and more delicate next to Ned, but he smiled sardonically and unabashedly.

"I'm Richard Upton Pickman -- head of the Esoteric Order of Dagon back in Innsmouth," he said with a wry smile.

Ned didn't really know what to say to this. "Innsmouth? Never heard of that place."

"That's all right," Pickman said with a comforting, though faintly mocking, smile. "I've never heard of River Heights either."

"Hi, Nance, what's going on?" Bess interrupted the tense silence between the two men.

"We just got a note -- supposedly from Jack the Ripper," Nancy explained. "Someone's threatening Rick Arlen."

"Oooh, I'm such a fan of yours!" Bess squealed.

Rick looked slightly appeased. "Thank you," he said with an unpleasant look of self-satisfaction.

"Well, I had better leave now," Pickman said abruptly.

"Why?" Nancy asked.

Pickman smiled, a little coldly. "I'm afraid this place is getting a bit crowded. Besides I have my art to get too." He glanced with a polite, but vaguely icy smile at Ned and Rick and then left the studio.

Nancy glanced back at the note. Who could have sent it...? She noticed a shadow outside the door...

When Nancy saw Pickman leave, she felt a strange feeling, almost as if she felt more vulnerable than before. They were all watching her as if they expected her to say something.

"Have you shown this letter to the police?" Nancy finally asked.

"Yes," Rick said sourly. "They didn't take me -- or it -- seriously."

"I'll try to figure out what's going on," Nancy said. She went past Ned and Bess and looked down the hallway for Pickman. She saw Millie, the elderly lady she had met before in the prop room earlier, walking by.

"Have you seen Richard Upton Pickman go by here?" Nancy asked.

Millie nodded with a chuckle. "He went outside the back."

Nancy hurried out of the studio into the night air. She saw Pickman leaning against the railing of the porch overlooking the studio's parking lot.

"So you're through interviewing the terrified victim already, eh?" Pickman said sardonically.

"He doesn't have much more to say," Nancy replied. She glanced at the artist. He was gazing straight up into the dark heavens at the moon, a strange smile playing on his face.

"I think I have an idea where your Ripper friend is," Pickman said thoughtfully. "I found this in Mr. Arlen's studio on the floor."

He handed Nancy a ticket that said BUS RIDE TO ARKHAM.

"Arkham?" Nancy drew her breath in sharply. "Your hometown?"

"That's right," Pickman smiled. "Strange coincidence."

"But how will we go -- " Nancy began.

Pickman interrupted her with a soft, cold kiss on the lips. "I'll take you myself. I have always wanted to show you Arkham," he added with a slight, mysterious smile.


	2. Journey to Arkham

Episode Two: Journey to Arkham

_Note: Hey, Danny Hawk and msnancydrew -- glad you both are enjoying this new story so much! Here's the next installment...

* * *

"You're going to Arkham?" Bess stared at Nancy in surprise as Nancy finished folding the last of her clothes and stuffing it in the suitcase. "Why?"_

"I have to, Bess," Nancy said. "I told you. Pickman figured out that the person who sent Rick Arlen that note must have escaped to Arkham."

"But it's all the way in Massachusetts!" Bess protested. "And you've never even been there before!"

Ned suddenly came into Nancy's room. "Nancy, I'd like to talk with you real quick," he said. Nancy was surprised, but followed him into the hallway of Mattie's house.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Look, I know you trust this man--" Ned began.

"You mean Richard Pickman?" Nancy broke in. "Of course I trust him. He saved my life back at Blackmoor Manor!"

"But he could be taking advantage of your trust," Ned said shortly. "He could be this...Jack the Ripper."

"Jack the Ripper was a murderer back in the late nineteenth century in London," Nancy returned. "Richard Upton Pickman is an ARTIST in the early twenty-first century in New York City. All right?"

"But someone is sending those letters," Ned put in. "Why not him?"

"And why do you think he did it?" Nancy said, though Ned's words had now sent her own mind in a turmoil. "Never mind. Look, I've got to go, I'll see you later."

She headed past him out the door of Mattie's house. Several minutes later, Ned noticed Pickman come into the house.

"Nancy's outside waiting for you," Ned said shortly.

"All right," Pickman said, and turned to leave.

"Don't get any ideas," Ned added as he began to leave. At the same time, he straightened as if to show off how much taller he was than the slight, delicate-looking artist.

Pickman did not look ruffled in the least by this insulting behavior. "I don't know what you mean," he said with a dark smirk and left the house, leaving Ned glaring behind him.

* * *

"We're there now," Nancy heard Richard Pickman's soft voice break into her slumber, and she woke in the car just in time to see a sign in the headlights of the car saying WELCOME TO ARKHAM.

"Already?" she said in surprise.

"Well, it took all night, but we're here," he smiled slightly. "I suppose we can stop at a hotel, since you're probably tired."

Nancy yawned and looked out the window. A fog seemed to swirl around the car and ahead she could see gambrel-roofed houses, ancient and crumbling, and a huge steepled Gothic-looking structure.

"That's the Miskatonic University," Pickman said, following her gaze. "I used to study there. They have a nice library you know, the Orne Library. Quite a collection. Maybe your friend Jack the Ripper decided to come here for one of their special collections books."

Pickman's smile was a little cold as he glanced at Nancy, and she could tell that he was still a little angry at Ned and Rick Arlen. She wondered why they seemed to inspire so much irritation in the otherwise easy-going artist.

"Where are we going to stay?" she asked.

"Why not the Wilcox Inn?" he suggested, parking there. Nancy nodded, knowing it was best not to argue with him when he was in one of his moods.

Once they entered the hotel -- a crumbling sort of place with an antique, ancient look about it, full of New England's beauteous antiquity -- the hotel proprietor asked that they sign their names before they go up to their rooms, as that was the custom at the Wilcox Inn. Nancy agreed...but as she watched Pickman sign his name, she couldn't help but notice something that made her heart turn cold.

His signature was much like that of Jack the Ripper's...

Pickman noticed Nancy's abrupt silence and turned to look at her with a strange smile. "Is anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, nothing," she said as she followed him down the hallway to their seperate rooms.

She suddenly felt Pickman holding her by the shoulders in a cold, steely grip. "I know exactly what you were thinking," he said softly. "Is it because of that man -- what was his name...Ned Nickerson?" He laughed; a quiet, sinister laugh full of black mockery. "Well, my dear, I suppose my handwriting does look something like that other fellow's, but that's not to say that I am that Ripper. After all, to tell you the truth, I find Rick Arlen to be completely beneath my mental energies; I don't believe that even if I was a murderer, I would find him worthy of all this attention."

Nancy couldn't help but shiver in his cold grasp. "Don't you believe me?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I do," she said. He kissed her softly, his lips cold like a specter's. Then he looked at her with a strangely wistful smile. "Well, pleasant dreams," he said, unlocking the door to his room and going in, leaving Nancy in the hallway alone with the memory of his cold touch still fresh in her mind.

* * *

Nancy awoke in the middle of the night. Her room was pitch black and all she could see was the faint stirring of the curtains of the window in the draft. She lay in bed wondering what it was that had woken her up. Then she heard it again...a faint scraping sound and a horrible gurgle.

She tossed the blankets off and reached into her suitcase for a flashlight and the revolver that her Dad had bought her for her birthday. Then she crept out of the room.

The hallway of the hotel was dark and narrow. The lights were turned off and Nancy could barely see anything. And yet in front of her, she saw something shining on the floor. She went forward and slipped on something wet. She fell and her hands came in contact with something red like spilled vegetable juice. Except she knew that that wasn't what it was.

For in front of her, she could see the outline of a woman lying on the ground. She looked as if -- her throat had been cut...

Nancy caught her breath, and for a moment felt like she was going to faint. She forced herself to keep control, and turned with the intention of calling the police. However, she felt someone grip her tightly and she saw the flash of something metal like the silver edge of a keenly sharp knife. She tried to scream, but was unable to because of her attacker's hold on her throat, so she kicked out with her leg to hit the killer's stomach, hoping that she could knock his breath out and escape. But immediately, she heard a gunshot and the person's grip on her loosened. The lights came on abruptly and she saw Richard Upton Pickman standing nearby holding a smoking revolver.

The dying man gasped, blood streaming from the wound in his side. He managed to chuckle, "I'm not the feisty one you're looking for! If you're looking for Jack the Ripper -- the one who kille that woman -- you're going to have to start searching your own friends. He's..." His words choked, his face stiffened, and Nancy could tell that he was dead.

She sobbed uncontrollably in Pickman's arms, but he was still watching the dead man with a cold, curious expression on his face.

"I wonder what he meant when he said that the Ripper was one of my friends," Nancy shuddered.

"I don't know," Pickman said in his customarily soft, cold voice. "Maybe you should be careful. Why, I might turn out to be the Ripper!"

Nancy stared at him. "You're teasing, right?"

"Of course I am, my dear," he said with a wry smile. "Why, can you see me as Jack the Ripper?"

Nancy did not know whether she wanted to answer that question or not.


	3. Murder at the Miskatonic

Episode Three: Murder at the Miskatonic

"Nancy, a woman was murdered at your hotel last night?" Bess gasped on the other end of the phone. "That's terrible! I think you should come back to New York City and stay away from Arkham."

"Stay away from Arkham?" Nancy repeated. "But that's where the killer is. I'm sure of it. And besides, I haven't gotten to explore the place at all!"

"I guess," Bess said grudgingly. "Still, though...I think I'm coming over, too. Just to see what's going on and if I can help. George said that she might come, too, so maybe we can figure out what's going on together." There was a pause. "Oh, Nance, Ned wants to talk to you."

Nancy sighed. "All right. Just tell him to make it quick."

"Nancy?" Ned's voice was on the other end. "I heard about that murder."

"Yeah, I don't know what it was all about," Nancy said. "According to that man who attacked me, he wasn't Jack the Ripper, but someone else is. Pickman saved my life, you know," she added.

"Nancy...what if HE'S Jack the Ripper?" Ned muttered. "That's it, I'm coming over to this dump -- what's it called? Arkham? I don't trust this New England guy one bit."

"What does it matter if he's a New Englander?" Nancy said in exasperation. "He could be from Wyoming for all I care and I'd still like him."

"Well, I'm coming over anyway," Ned returned.

Nancy started to protest but he'd already hung up. She sighed in annoyance.

"I don't know where I can start investigating first," she mused to herself. "I think the best thing to do is do some researching on who Jack the Ripper was in the first place."

"Who Jack the Ripper is?" she heard Pickman's voice behind her. "Well, that's an easy question, since I happen to be a Ripperologist, myself!"

"A Ripperologist?" Nancy repeated.

"Someone who studies the Ripper murders to try and discover who Jack the Ripper was," Pickman explained.

"But Jack the Ripper was around during the Victorian times!" Nancy exclaimed in surprise.

"But it's still a mystery," Pickman said with a cryptic smile. "And the cases are very interesting to read about. I can tell you quite a lot about the Ripper, if you want to know about him."

Nancy followed him out of the hotel onto the streets of Arkham. A cold New England wind blew past her. "What got you interested in Jack the Ripper."

"Really, my dear," Pickman laughed softly. "I would have thought you had guessed by now that anything remotely ghoulish is bound to interest me!"

* * *

"So do you know who this woman was whom you found murdered?" Officer O'Hara glanced at Nancy and Richard Upton Pickman skeptically from his pad. They were standing in the Arkham Police Department.

"No, I don't know who she was," Nancy replied. "I--"

"And do you?" the officer interrupted, turning to Pickman. The artist shook his head.

"She was Ms. Amanda Davenport," the officer said. "Enemies: none."

"None that we have know of," Pickman put in.

"Enemies, none," the officer repeated, glaring at Pickman. "Look here, we have some information regarding this fellow who did it. We just got a letter in the mail today."

"May I see it?" Nancy asked.

The officer sighed. "I don't see why not." He handed her a slip of paper written in crimson ink. It said:

_"I'm not a butcher  
I'm not a Yid  
Nor yet a foreign skipper,  
But I'm your own true loving friend,  
Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper!"_

Nancy stared at the letter as the police chief rattled on, "We don't know who sent it; it was just in the mailbox. So there you have it. Personally," he added under his breath. "I have my suspicions. I think it was some student at the Miskatonic University here in Arkham."

"Why?" Nancy asked.

"Just a hunch," the police chief muttered. "Could be wrong. But you never know, eh?"

It was then that a police whistle broke the silence and an officer ran into the police station.

"Chief O'Hara!" he gasped. "Another murder -- at the Arkham Public Library!"

"Here we go again," sighed the officer, pulling his cap on and heading out the police station, with Nancy Drew and Pickman close behind.

The Miskatonic University was of Gothic architecture, with imposing towers -- almost more of a castle than a university in terms of appearance. Nancy and Pickman followed Officer O'Hara down the stone-walled passageway past the weirdly patterned stained glass windows until they reached a door labeled ORNE LIBRARY.

"Maybe you should stay here," Officer O'Hara told Nancy. "It won't be a pretty sight, missie."

Nancy hesitated. "There might be some evidence I'll miss--" she began.

"Then I'll go inside for you," Pickman interposed. "I'm sure I've seen worse."

"You?" she said in surprise. "You're an artist, not a detective!"

"Don't forget what I draw," Pickman reminded her.

Nancy remembered from her first meeting with the mysterious young artist at Blackmoor Manor a month ago -- and shivered a little in the drafty corridor of the university. "You draw ghouls," she murmured. "But they're not real -- are they?"

Pickman didn't answer, though there was something about his dreamy smile that was faintly disturbing. However, Nancy did as he requested and stood outside the library as he and Officer O'Hara went inside.

The minutes went by. She gazed at the stained glass window in front of her. The patterns on it seemed to be a menagerie of strange patterns that made her feel a little heady. She looked away and happened to notice a shadow at the end of the hallway...


	4. West, Herbert West

**Episode Four: West, Herbert West**

Nancy held her breath and watched. Slowly she inched her way closer, intending to take her pocket mirror out to catch a glimpse of who the shadowy skulker was. At the same time, though, she saw the shadow begin to retreat. She made a quick decision and dashed out into the hallway, seizing the person before he could make his escape.

"Get your hands off of me!" the person demanded in a voice that was both sharp and furious. "Let me go now!"

Nancy saw that the person was a bespectacled young man, a little shorter than her, with dark hair carefully parted on the side, and hazel eyes that were burning with indignation. She released him by the edge of his black overcoat. He straightened his coat, still glaring at her.

"Why in the heck did you do that?" he demanded, his voice a little calmer but still crisp and curt.

"Well, why were you skulking around?" Nancy asked. "Especially after a murder occured here!"

"Another murder?" the spectacled young man stared in horror. Nancy heard him murmur to himself. "Perhaps I administered more of the serum than I expected..."

"What?" Nancy said.

"Nothing, nothing," he said quickly with a smirk. At that moment, Officer O'Hara and Pickman returned from the scene of the crime.

"Terrible, terrible," Officer O'Hara murmured. "Poor woman. We have to catch this killer! Oh, Herbert West!" he exclaimed when he saw the spectacled young student next to Nancy. "What are you doing here? I thought you stayed in the medical department most of the time."

Herbert Westmade a noncommittalnoise and stared intently at the officer as if waiting to see whether he would have something more to say about the crime scene.

"No evidence," continued Officer O'Hara. "No evidence as to who the killer might have been at all! But we'll keep looking, never fear. He won't get away with it. Whoever he is..."

* * *

As Nancy and Pickman walked through the Miskatonic University's grounds towards the street, a car stopped in front of them.

"Nancy, it's me!" a voice called which Nancy recognized as Bess Marvin's voice. "How's the case going?"

Nancy shrugged. "All right."

Bess got out of the car. "Ned's coming too, but I beat him here."

"Ned's still coming," Nancy groaned.

Bess nodded sympathetically. "I couldn't stop him. Why don't we stop here at the Miskatonic University cafeteria and eat here?"

"Is the food good here?" Nancy asked Pickman.

"If you prefer your lasagna to taste like a rat run-over by a steamroller, then it is the best place in town," Pickman replied with a ghoulish smile.

"Well, it's the closest restaurant," Nancy said resignedly, so they went back towards the forbidding university.

* * *

The inside of the cafeteria looked much like the cafeteria of any other school, except for the fact that most of the students looked rather unusual.

"I suppose I can introduce some of the folk here," Pickman mused. "There are the Whateleys over there on that side of the room. They're from Dunwich, a small town to the west of here. Then there are the Waites, the Bishops, and the Ornes over on that side -- families from Innsmouth. Not many Arkham folk go there for some reason."

"Why?" Nancy asked.

"It's a strange place full of strange secrets," Pickman said with that same dreamily distant smile.

They sat down at a table in a corner of the cafeteria and ordered their food.

"Aren't you going to order any food?" Nancy asked Pickman.

He shook his head with a slight smile. "No, I had to put up with enough of Miskatonic food when I was a student here," he said with mock grimness.

A shadow fell across the table and Nancy looked up to see Herbert West standing nearby. The spectacled student was looking for a seat, but all the other tables were filled.

"Why don't you sit with us?" Bess suggested sweetly.

Herbert turned and stared at her with shocked surprise. Apparently, it was the first time anyone had ever asked him to share a table with them.

"Why, thank you," he said, a little stiffly. He sat down but stared down at the table as if he afraid to look anyone in the eye.

"So what are you studying?" Bess asked.

"Hmm. Life. And the process of bringing to life dead organisms through a process known as...re-animation," his eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses.

At that moment, however, an middle-aged man with grey hair stopped by the table.

"Mr. West!" he said angrily. "I told you not to mention that on Miskatonic grounds any longer! Do this once again and you will pay the penalty!"

"Why can't he talk about what he wants to talk about?" Bess put in. Nancy was surprised that her friend was taking up for the shy, nerdy young student.

The professor looked surprised. Clearly he had not been expecting anyone to stand up for Mr. West. He glowered, but left.

Herbert West stared at Bess with an expression of relief. "Thank you," he said. Then his expression became stiff and embarassed again and he quickly rose. "Er, I have to leave now."

Nancy, Bess, and Pickman watched in surprise as he hurried out of the cafeteria.


End file.
